I'll be the one
by neela
Summary: Sequel to "Aftermath". Distance was good. Distance would keep him from doing something stupid, like getting too emotionally involved or carried away by a beautiful, vulnerable face. Like he'd been with Suzanne Delacourt last year. But as he watched Tessa reach up self-consciously to touch the scarf she'd arranged carefully around her neck, however, Steve knew it was too late.


**I'LL BE THE ONE**

 _Inspired by lyrics of "Safety" by Cake Or Death._

Starts the day after "Aftermath". Based on the _Deadline/Suspect_ novel by Jennifer Rowe.

* * *

 _007\. Days_

Steve Hayden knew the things people said about him through the grapevine. However, he'd learned a long time ago that you couldn't stop people from talking, so better to just stop yourself from caring. Most of the time, he was able to do that. After all, the only thing that mattered was your work and his record spoke for itself. No one could complain about that.

For the past week, though, he'd been worried "no one" would turn to "everyone". To say the least, his new partner was a far cry from Barney, or any other geezer at Central Homicide for that matter. The way her mind seemed to take flight and speed off somewhere no one else could follow… After all his years on the force, Steve had learned how that could spell 'danger'. He'd told himself she wouldn't last long like that. In a way, he'd be right. Twice in less than a week, she'd walked straight into a disaster all on her lonesome.

Maybe that was what had annoyed him most of all. How she'd breezed in like any other rookie, assumed a lot of space and loyalty from her colleagues, and given none back. Instead, she'd insisted on dealing with things on her own. She'd seemed so incredibly arrogant, so… _superior_.

Well, now he knew better.

Glancing at the woman huddled over her computer, Steve's week-long annoyance was non-existent and instead replaced with hesitation. When she'd first walked out of her apartment building this morning, he'd wanted to tell her she didn't have to come in, especially after the ordeals she'd had yesterday with Mumm and at the amusement park, but one look at her eyes had stopped the words in his mouth.

Maybe yesterday's events had coloured him, but Steve swore he'd seen the second and third layers of Tessa's personality that his prejudice had previously shielded from him: it hadn't been superiority or arrogance that'd brought her to the station today, but her own vulnerability and sense of duty. She looked like she needed some measure of control, a feeling Steve knew only too well.

In this line of work that they'd chosen, they never knew what could happen or what they'd encounter. Facing the worst examples of humanity's brutality, they had to survive somehow. They had to stay on top of things as best as they could, and giving in to their vulnerabilities was a sure way to lose that precious control.

Still, by baring her vulnerabilities to him – practically a stranger and someone who'd be working with her for who knew how long – Steve felt somewhat reassured. Maybe because he'd seen that she was as human as him; just as vulnerable; not some ambitious rookie too wrapped up in herself to consider those around her.

The only problem with that, however, was that he no longer saw her as simply his co-worker. She'd gained three dimensions and with that followed an entirely different range of issues, one of which Steve was decidedly struggling with now:

How to un-see a beautiful woman crying as she bravely tried to re-arrange her ruffled and bloodied clothes before returning to the apartment she'd nearly died in only hours ago. How to deal with the fact that he'd invited said woman back to his place for the night, and felt oddly disappointed when she'd turned his offer down.

Exhaling heavily, Steve reached up to rub his eyes.

"You okay?" Tessa's voice was gentle. Concerned, even. Steve wanted to laugh. _He_ was supposed to ask that question, not the other way around.

"Yeah." Meeting those beautiful eyes that were sure to haunt him from now on, Steve gestured to his computer. "Just sick of typing reports."

"Oh. Yeah." Tessa offered a small smile. "Can get a bit tedious."

 _God, that smile…_

Withdrawing his eyes abruptly, Steve cleared his throat and pushed back his chair to get to his feet. "Think I'll make a run for some coffee." He picked up his suit jacket hanging off the back of the chair and pulled it on, then paused and glanced at Tessa again, who'd withdrawn her eyes too in a decidedly dejected fashion. "You want anything? Latte?"

She hesitated, maybe out of some kind of awkwardness from being treating more kindly in the space of five seconds than in the past week in total. It was an action that set off another uncomfortable lurch in Steve's stomach much like her smile had done, intensifying his current urge to run.

 _Definitely not superior or arrogant._

"Sure, thanks." Tessa's smile lost some of its strain and her shoulders relaxed visibly, emphasising once more how beautiful she was; and how wrong that thought was. "I'll buy the next one."

"I'll hold you to it," Steve said with a half-smile. It was all he managed right now; he could feel his inner turmoil threaten to break his professional façade and he wasn't confident enough to let a week-long partner, let alone a beautiful woman, witness it.

So he ran. Slowly, with measured strides, but nevertheless a run.

And once he reached the elevator, Steve looked back to reassure himself that distance was good. Distance would keep him from doing something stupid, like getting too emotionally involved or carried away by a beautiful, vulnerable face.

Like he'd been with Suzanne Delacourt last year.

As he watched Tessa reach up self-consciously to touch the scarf she'd arranged carefully around her neck, however, he knew it was too late.

Tessa Vance was no longer a one-dimensional partner and co-worker. In mere days, she'd transformed into a fleshed out, three-dimensional, brilliant detective that underneath all that was also very much a smart, vulnerable and beautiful young woman.

If he'd met her at a social gathering, he wouldn't have hesitated to make her acquaintance. As it was, he was stiffening in all the wrong places – back, shoulders, arms and neck – and Steve knew he'd have to close himself off if he was going to survive.

He just had no idea it'd be so _damn_ difficult.

* * *

 _008\. Weeks_

The wall-mounted clock was ticking away the later hours of the evening, but his partner hadn't shown any signs of heading home just yet. This had become a regular occurrence over the past month since the Fairview case, and probably didn't take a seasoned detective to figure Tessa's evasion had at least _something_ to do with Mumm's home invasion.

Tonight, though, Steve had decided enough was enough. If she didn't want to go home, at least he could take her elsewhere without crossing any invisible boundaries. Might even do them both some good. Unwinding was alpha and omega in this line of work they'd chosen. If you weren't able to, you'd drag the ghosts with you wherever you went.

Steve knew that all too well. Many of them were exorcised through renovation and DIY projects at home. Instead of prayers and words, images and feelings had been bled out with each stroke of paint, each wall torn down, each nail knocked in, and each wall plastered. Most of the time, it helped. The other times…well, the bar typically worked. So did being amongst people who _knew_ : co-workers, fellow cops, forensic crew, medical examiners.

Unwinding. Yes, that's what Tessa needed. Well, that and more, probably, but that wasn't a fight he could allow himself to get too involved in. Staying professional, that was the clue.

"Hey, Tessa?" Pushing any lingering thoughts away, Steve closed the lid on his laptop and met Tessa's eyes as she looked up – startled – from the notepad in her hands. "The others are meeting us down at the Moon & Stars. Better wrap things up."

"Us?" One finely shaped eyebrow arched in confusion. "I didn't—"

"Mandatory attendance," Steve said, smirking slightly as he got up from his seat and picked up their coats from the nearby dumbwaiter and handed hers to her, not giving her an option to bail out. For some reason, his pulse was heightened slightly. "Dee was quite adamant about it. Apparently, she's challenged us to a game of pool."

Tessa opened and closed her mouth, twisting her coat in her hands, clearly indecisive. "I don't play pool. Or drink. And I've got this report—"

She made as if to turn back to her desk, but Steve grabbed the office chair by its back and began to pull her away.

"Nothing that can't wait for tomorrow," Steve said, pushing through with his plan even as his mind told him he was already beginning to cross that invisible line; he'd never pulled old Barney around by the edge of his office chair. "Bad guy's already in custody. Time to celebrate. Come on."

At the last word, he stopped her chair in front of the glass doors, then pulled them open for her with an expectant look. When she still hesitated, he nudged the underside of the chair slightly with his foot. "Go on, then."

With a heavy sigh, Tessa gave in. She stood, pulled on her coat, and then looked back at her desk. "I'll need my handbag. Hold the elevator?"

Steve narrowed his eyes. "All right, but no funny business. Don't make me _drag_ you out of here."

Tessa rolled her eyes, which he'd learned in the past month to be a sign of her amusement rather than annoyance. "Anyone tell you you're a bit of a nag?"

"All the time," Steve said with a straight face, then smirked when Tessa gave him an askew glance.

Rolling her eyes again, a smile touched Tessa's lips as she pushed her chair back to her desk and picked up her handbag. The action was heartening to see; although they'd come more frequently recently, Tessa's smiles still dropped now and then as her mind clearly pulled her down less pleasant thoughts.

Steve didn't want that to happen anymore. She was his partner and she's been through some really heavy stuff, parts of which had been due to him. The least he could do was cheer her up somehow, make her forget, and make sure she felt welcome from now on.

"If you're not that good at pool, you can be on my team," Steve said after Tessa had entered the elevator and the doors had closed. "Dee's gonna kick our ass anyway."

"She's that good?" Tessa asked, clutching her handbag almost nervously. Steve wouldn't ordinarily have noticed if he hadn't already been hyperaware of her actions and behaviour over the past month, if only to avoid another potentially fatal misunderstanding like during Mumm's home invasion.

"Better," Steve said as his hands dug into the pockets of his coat. The elevator slowly came to a halt and opened up to reveal the ground floor. "Could've been in a local competition, probably."

Tessa smirked slightly. "Then shouldn't I be on _her_ team so she'd have a handicap?"

"Now _that's_ a thought," Steve said, grinning.

As it turned out, even with Tessa as a handicap, Dee managed to kick his ass thoroughly. However, while she danced around the pool table chanting some kind of victory poem reminding Steve oddly of a Maori haka, he found that he didn't mind.

Seeing Tessa grin like she was doing right now, relaxing in the company of her colleagues, who'd welcomed her with open arms, was worth a bruised ego. And later, when he gave her a ride home and she didn't tense up in view of her apartment, Steve allowed himself a smile too.

…but he hoped she wouldn't start turning those full-blown smiles on him.

He wouldn't last long if she did.

* * *

 _009\. Months_

"I could never do something like this."

Standing in the middle of his living room – well, chaos might be a better word for it, even if he _had_ cleaned up a little before she arrived – Tessa had that look on. The one telling him she was taking in everything, observing every little detail, memorising them for later. Although she'd seen it all before, it set him somewhat on edge.

She turned to him with a big, honest smile. "I was terrible at Arts and Crafts. Almost set the classroom on fire once."

"Good to know," Steve said sardonically, busying himself with the coffee machine standing on his kitchen counter, if only to limit his exposure to her smile. "Was about to ask you if you wanted to chip in a few hours sometime."

Tessa snorted and hugged the files in her arms a bit closer. "Wouldn't mind, but you'd better not trust me with anything bigger than cleaning your paint brushes…or making coffee."

"I'll keep that in mind." Finding two mugs from the cupboard, Steve set them down on his kitchen table where he'd already set up his computer and a stack of files. "You want it black today?"

"Yes, thank you." Tessa hit him with that smile again, shifting somewhat on her feet before pulling up a kitchen chair to sit down.

Trying to appear casual, Steve turned back to the kitchen, where the coffee machine was sputtering out the black liquid. He opened the fridge and peered rather morosely at the sparse contents, glad the door shielded it from her view. He closed it and found a box of salty crackers instead, pouring them into a bowl.

If Mary Hayden had seen him, she'd probably chide him for being such an unprepared host.

As he set the bowl down in front of Tessa, he gave her an embarrassed smile, "Forgot to drop by the convenience store on my way home, but we could always order in something if you get peckish later."

"Oh. No, no, that's fine." Smiling awkwardly, Tessa shook her head and waved a hand dismissively, her blonde curls shining brightly in the overhead lamp light. "I ate before I got here."

"All right." Shifting somewhat impotently on his feet, Steve glanced back at the coffee and realised it still had some time left before it was done. "Should we just get cracking, then? I'd rather get to bed at a reasonable hour, and I think you could stand to benefit from that as well."

Teasing came so natural by now that he forgot himself, forgot to look away when she smiled, and was hooked by the wondrous sound of her laughter.

"No late phone calls," Tessa promised, tapping her fingers on top of the folders in front of her. "Don't think the DA would appreciate two sleepy detectives on the stand tomorrow, either."

"Quite right." Smirking, Steve sat down as well and opened the lid of his laptop. As his eyes caught sight of the writing on the topmost folder, he hesitated and threw a worried glance at Tessa, noticing she'd tensed up slightly as well. "So…you ready for this?"

Tessa inhaled and exhaled, her lips pursed for a moment. "I've been over this so many times with the DA already, I've practically got it all memorised."

Just by the look on her face, Steve wanted to reach his hand out to comfort her. He didn't, though, settling with the best he could offer in these circumstances – an understanding tone and a knowing look.

"You'll be all right," he said gently. "It's just another court case. You've done plenty of them before. Just stick to the facts."

"I know." She flashed him another smile, a nervous one, before looking down at her folders and opening the first. A mutter passed her lips, almost inaudible. " _Stick to the facts_."

Hearing her repeat his words to herself as the beginnings of a mantra, Steve smirked and busied himself with pulling up the written files on his laptop. He'd known her long enough to know some of her quirks and this was one of them. If she just got her mind on the right track, she'd stay sharp, focused, like a foxhound.

It was one of those endearing qualities of hers, although it could just as easily be a source of tension and conflict. God knows she and him, or she and Thorne, had clashed often enough over some seemingly fanciful line of inquiry.

Steve had made it his job to ground her, though. Wasn't an easy job, but one he pursued nevertheless. After all, she was growing on him.

… _More like hook, line and sinker._

Steve cleared his throat and focused on the folder in his hands, where a photo of Bradley Mumm was attached to an arrest file. "So, let's go over this one more time…"

They did, and Steve's hand twitched each time he heard a hesitant lull in Tessa's recounting, each time he noticed her tense in the corner of his eye, and each time their eyes met.

 _Speeding down towards Adamson Avenue…police cars passing him by, lights and sirens on._

 _Tessa's strange voice on the phone, and that man's…haunting him. Pushing him. Thinking something's wrong._

 _Braking too hard, grinding against the seat belt, out the door before he'd completely pulled the keys out…_

 _Tessa sitting on the low wall, talking to the police officer, then spotting him, jumping to her feet, wired and frenzied…_

 _Adrenaline carrying him those last few feet of distance…_

 _Anger as she practically ran past him, ignoring his questions, jumping into his car…_

 _Erratic theories, jumbled up, crashing with his preconceptions, his well-ordered plans…_

… _and finally realising she was right. They'd been fooled. All of them._

The memories came back to him easily, but they made his stomach churn. Especially as he remembered how driven she'd been, how she'd insisted on continuing the case, despite her injuries. How she'd run off after a killer while he was stuck doing CPR on Lindsey Cramer. How they'd met inside the ghost train after Marty was taken down, seen each other, seen each other's injuries, in an entirely new light.

" _You all right?"_ he'd asked. She'd smiled and joked, " _Fine. Why do you ask?"_

Right then, he'd learned how strong she could be. The thought made him smile, even now as he watched her grow steadily more confident for each time they went through the events of Bradley Mumm's home invasion.

"I think the coffee's ready now," Tessa said, smiling at him, breaking him out of his thoughts.

Steve followed her line of sight, realising she was right. Again. With an embarrassed smile, he got up and collected the pot, then poured them both a mug each.

Taking the mug in her hands, Tessa hummed pleasantly as she inhaled the scent. "Mm, that's good." She hit him with that wide grin again. "Don't think you'd want me making the coffee either."

Steve chuckled, a pleasant warmth filling him from top to bottom that had nothing to do with the hot drink he sipped.

Hook, line and sinker, indeed.

* * *

 _064\. Fall_

"Who's that with Tessa over there?" said Dee suddenly, her intrigued tone drawing everyone's attention to the target in her line of sight.

Tessa was standing at the bar waiting for their drinks, one black high-heeled shoe on the footrest, one hand tucking her curly hair behind an ear as a wide grin crossed her lips. She was half turned towards a broad-shouldered, brown-haired man leaning casually against the bar next to her, flashing white even teeth. The man said something and Tessa broke into a chuckle that carried across the rowdy bar to the table where they sat.

"I don't know," said Tootsie, a small secretive smile playing on her face. She raised an eyebrow in Dee's direction and Steve did not like the conspiratorial shine in the pathologist's grey eyes.

"Ruddy handsome, he is," quipped Dee, giving a lopsided grin. "Reckon she'll have company tonight?"

Tootsie chuckled as a slightly affronted look crossed Fisk's usually stoic features. "I don't think Detective Vance would appreciate you slandering about her private matters, Constable," he rebuked, taking a slow sip of his aquavit.

"Well, I ain't conjuring up any fantasies, Sergeant," defended Dee. "Come on! Aren't you the least bit curious? This is Tessa we're talking about!"

"No matter," said Fisk calmly, looking at his subordinate carefully, "You should give her some privacy."

"Oh Lance," smiled Tootsie, speaking in a very condescending tone, "You can't deny us the chance to wonder."

"Yeah, Tessa's been single for like...forever!" exclaimed Dee, making a wide gesture for emphasis before taking a slug of her beer. Then she leaned closer to all of them, voice lowered. "Seriously, when was the last time that woman got herself _laid_?"

Dee's direct tone had the usual effect on her prim and proper boss. Fisk stuttered for a few moments, trying to come up with a reply while Tootsie only laughed, half throwing her head back.

"I'd—I'd hardly call it forever, Constable—"

Steve let Fisk's stuttering reply disappear to the back of his mind while he turned back to appraise the scene at the bar. The man had moved a step closer and Tessa only needed to lean a bit forward to stick her face all over him.

She was laughing, looking down on occasion as if shy. A rosy tint covered her cheeks. The wild hair was barely touching her shoulders, almost looking like it stood on end. Golden light from the bar reflected on her smooth skin, making her beautiful blue eyes sparkle. The wide smile split her face in two, brightening her features and covering the dark circles he'd seen earlier at the office.

She was vibrant; the air around her was crackling with life and gravity seemed to move that blasted man ever closer—

Steve quickly quenched the jagged spark knifing through his stomach, and looked away with his jaw locked. Instinct was telling him to stay put, even if all he wanted to do was get up and get out.

He'd never expected it would be this hard. He'd thought—Well, he wasn't sure anymore what he'd been thinking. In fact, it would be better not to think on it at all. He was too damn old to be getting carried away by some idiotic belief that—

Steve's fingers clenched around his beer.

So Tessa was having a good time with some guy. What did he care? It was none of his business. He was just her partner. Good friend too, probably, but nothing more. Nothing to warrant the kind of stuff running through the back of his head—

"—your sex life!" Dee's indignant exclamation broke through Steve's mind and he forcibly willed his brain to get into the situation again. Apparently, they had somehow jumped from Tessa's personal life to Fisk's. Once Steve realised that, he figured he _really_ didn't want those pictures in his head.

"God, Dee!" he said, slightly disgusted. "Would you keep it clean, _please_?"

Dee opened her mouth, taken aback slightly, and her entire attitude suddenly toned down as she shifted awkwardly on her feet. "Geez, sorry. Everyone's a prude tonight."

"Not everyone," Tootsie said, still smirking, to which Fisk raised a shocked eyebrow. "Oh, come on, Lance. Humans weren't meant to be some sort of heartless machines. When life's offering you opportunities, you should grab them—"

Steve pushed back from the table suddenly, halting Tootsie's statement.

Realising how it might look by the stunned expression on the others' faces, he muttered as calmly as he could, "Sorry. Been a long day. Think I'm gonna head home."

"Hey, weren't you Tessa's ride?" Dee asked, glancing back to the bar where Tessa was still chatting with the other man.

As if noticing the attention given her way, Tessa glanced towards them, towards him, and Steve's insides churned uncomfortably at the confusion in her eyes. He wanted to walk out right then and there, and was about to when he noticed motion in the corner of his eye.

Back at the bar, Tessa gave the other guy a blushing smile, flustered, and muttered something before picking up the drinks she'd been waiting for. Moments later, she was at their table to set them down.

Steve couldn't help notice the guy giving Tessa long, dark, delighted looks as she walked away, as if he'd just won some major prize and was going to savour every last bit of it.

"You leaving already?" she asked Steve, who stood impotently by the table, locked in a state of raging emotions.

"Yeah." With some difficulty, Steve nodded towards the guy at the bar. "You got someone to give you a ride home?"

Tessa glanced back at the bar, blushing once more as the man grinned at her, then withdrew her eyes embarrassedly. "No."

"But you got his number, right?" Dee interjected gleefully, waggling her eyebrows suggestively. "Gotta hand it to you, Tessa. You know how to pick 'em."

Chuckling awkwardly, Tessa tucked a strand of hair behind her hair in that damnable cute way of hers. Steve's fists clenched at his sides.

"Anyway," Steve said, his tone even as he gave everyone a courteous nod, "I'm heading off. See you guys tomorrow."

He didn't wait to see if Tessa followed or not. In the short second their eyes had met, she'd looked stunned and self-conscious all at once. The picture hadn't sat well with him. Although his steps were slow, deliberate, he knew he was running. Knew he couldn't wait to get away. And as the cold evening air hit him, he realised how hot he was; how he bristled with emotion.

Steve hated the feeling. The last time he'd felt that way, it'd ended in a divorce.

…which was definitely _not_ something he wanted to associate with this situation right now.

"Hey, Steve?"

Hearing her voice call out to him, Steve groaned beneath his breath. He didn't turn around to face her, though, just narrowing his focus to the curb in front of him. "Yeah?"

She caught up to him, a little out of breath, and kept up with his long strides. "You okay?"

Damn that worried voice. It only antagonised him further, but _this,_ damn it, this wasn't the time and place for it. They were still in cop territory. Steve knew how fast gossip travelled; knew some of it was already out there.

"Yeah," he said as calmly as possible, not meeting her eyes. "Just tired. Too many all-nighters lately."

Tessa chuckled lightly. "Sorry 'bout that."

Steve shrugged. "Led us to our merchant, eventually. Case solved."

"Still, I _am_ sorry." She was staring at him, observing him; he could see it in the corner of his eye. After all these years as partners, he knew the look well. Usually appreciated it, but not now.

He continued to walk forwards to where he'd parked the car. Just a few more metres left. Thankfully, she didn't say anything more.

The ride to her apartment was conducted in silence, and though she hesitated before getting out, she eventually got out with a stilted "Good night."

As the door closed behind her, Steve felt he could breathe again…but just as soon as the thought crossed his mind, he realised how _wrong_ that felt. How wrong the entire ride had felt. They weren't supposed to be like that. It wasn't them.

They'd been partners for more than three years. They'd gotten comfortable with each other, seen each other's weaknesses, seen each other's strengths, and they'd saved each other's lives more times than he could count.

She was supposed to give those smiles to _him._

Steve felt the fight leave him as he leaned forward, resting his head on the steering wheel. Inhaling deeply, he tilted his head and looked up to where Tessa's apartment was still dark. He stared until the lights came on, as if waiting to see if she'd look down, to check if he was still there, in pain, unable to tell her what was on his mind, pushing the distance between them.

She didn't.

With a sigh, Steve left.

But if he'd stayed a moment longer, he'd have seen her face behind the curtains. He'd have seen her look down at where his car was still standing.

And he'd have known she knew.

* * *

 _011\. Red_

"We better split up."

Although Tessa's voice was hushed, it echoed in the ruins of the cathedral-size factory. Her eyes were wide, her shoulders hunched, every little expressive detail screaming tension and adrenaline.

Steve cursed inwardly. Somehow, they always wound up in these situations, and every instinct in him was telling him it was a terrible idea to split up. Just look at their track record.

But it was a tactical decision and a sound one. Back-up was eight minutes out, but this place was too large to cover in time to avoid their merchant taking off, and he'd escaped them too many times already. Besides, they were wearing bulletproof vests and Tessa had done more shooting practice over the past years; he'd made her so she'd feel more comfortable with it.

"Okay."

He'd hardly said the word before Tessa took off down one end of the factory ground floor, forcing him to take the other. Raising his gun up, Steve narrowed his focus to what was right in front of him, ears perched for any hint of sound, head on a swivel, checking corners and reflections in glass, mirrors and metals.

All thoughts were gone, irrelevant to the situation. He forgot about time as his feet carried him across the room, glancing sideways only now and then to see if he'd catch sight of his partner. He didn't, and the tension rose in him despite his precarious control.

"Police, stop!" Tessa's voice suddenly rang out across the room, ricocheting off rusty shelves, barrels and leftover machinery. "Kilgrave!"

Steve burst into a run, making a beeline for her most likely location but still making sure to check his corners, follow procedure.

"Stop!" Tessa yelled again, closer this time, and Steve could hear clanging and wrangling as someone bustled about somewhere cluttered. "Put down the gun!"

That word. It was enough to make him run past his limits, push his muscles to the brink of what they could handle, his heart hammering in his chest when he caught sight of blonde hair beyond dirty glass, a shadow beyond her.

"Put it _down,_ Kilgrave!" Tessa yelled again, louder still, with a touch of edginess. Steve recognised it, knew things were escalating, ran even harder with his gun still drawn. "Put it _do—_ "

 _Bang! Bang!_

 _Bang! Bang!_

Four intermingling shots. Just as Steve rounded the corner, he saw Tessa on one side, twisting backwards with a grimace, and their killer on the other, still with his gun drawn on her even as blood blossomed on the front of his blue shirt. Kilgrave grimaced and barred his teeth, tightening his hold on the gun, correcting it to adjust for Tessa's motion…

"NO!" Steve didn't think. He drew his gun to eye level, squeezed the trigger once, hit Kilgrave in his leg, saw the stunned expression on his face as he collapsed to his knees. Barrelling forwards, Steve kicked the gun out of the man's hands and pushed him down to the ground, pointing his gun in his face. "Don't move! _Don't_ move!"

He didn't. Kilgrave was too busy grimacing in pain, spitting and hissing, nothing but bile and curses coming past his lips, none of which Steve cared to focus on.

Instead, Steve quickly assessed the man's injuries, glanced back at Tessa to see her still on her feet, ambling towards them with her gun raised in silent acknowledgment that she covered him, and Steve put his gun back in his holster. Then he pushed down hard at the gunshot wounds to Kilgrave's stomach, not about to let him get the easy way out of this. Not when he'd killed three women.

"You okay?" Steve called over his shoulder, still hyped, still hyperaware of every little motion their merchant made beneath him; ready to act if he got any silly ideas about doing something stupid.

"Yeah. I'm fine. I can hear the sirens," Tessa said, wheezing somewhat heavily, as if she'd been hit by a tonne of bricks. Probably took a shot or two to the bulletproof vest.

She entered the periphery of his vision and Steve took a moment to glance up. A roar of anger rose up when he saw she was clutching a neck wound, blood spilling past her fingers, her face pale.

He lost control.

" _Fuck_! How serious is it?" Steve was half ready to abandon their merchant and storm over to her, thoughts raging around how she might be covering a fatal injury and only shock and adrenaline was keeping her on her feet.

"Just a graze. I'm _fine,_ " Tessa said sharply, and in that affronted tone as if his worry was stupid, unwarranted and unwanted. She even rolled her eyes. _Rolled her eyes_!

After all the frustration of the past few weeks, Steve's hands clenched, his teeth gritted, and every instinct was screaming at him that this wasn't the time, wasn't the place. Didn't help that Kilgrave suddenly started laughing in wild, hysterical abandon, looking at him as if he knew _exactly_ was going on in his head.

"Shut up!" Steve snapped, pushing a little extra hard on the man's wound, silencing him momentarily. "And lie still."

Tessa holstered her gun and kneeled down to handcuff one of Kilgrave's hands to a nearby pipe, her voice hoarse and terse as if she knew what was going on in his head as well. "I'll radio in for an ambulance and go meet the cavalry."

That was all she said before leaving Steve alone with their merchant, and Steve had to clench his teeth tightly together to avoid saying something stupid. Kilgrave was staring at him again, grinning wickedly, his chest heaving for breath.

"So damn hard with those women, eh?"

Steve's only response was to press down harder on the wounds.

Beneath his skin, though, he could feel the storm brewing. And later, when he spotted Tessa being checked out by the paramedics in the back of an ambulance, he knew it couldn't be held back much longer.

Not when the paramedic in question was the guy who'd chatted up Tessa in a bar a month ago…and she was still giving him those damn smiles.

* * *

 _069\. Thunder_

Each swing of his sledgehammer bore into the drywall in time with the rumbles of thunder, each hit reverberating through his already sore muscles. Steve welcomed it, though. It gave him something to focus on. Gave him something harmless to pound to pieces; something he'd build up again.

Therapy, that's what his dad called it. Steve had needed it after the disastrous affair with Suzanne Delacourt four years ago.

Now it seemed he needed it again, even though he'd finished most of the renovations in his house already. Only the third bedroom left. No point hurrying with that when he already had a bedroom and a guestroom. Additional bedrooms were for something, someone, else. Something Steve didn't have, not yet, and maybe never.

Pausing, Steve stepped back, let the sledgehammer down to the floor, and leaned down to pick up his beer. Fourth that night, which probably wasn't wise, but right now he didn't care about that.

He wanted to exorcize Kilgrave's words from his head. Wanted to banish old memories, new memories, that only made his blood flare to a boil when he recalled them.

Stupid to think he'd have a shot. After all these years and nothing happening one way or the other…stupid. Moronic. No wonder she'd seek out someone else; be enticed by someone else. Give her smiles to someone else. He'd been too damn much of a coward, thinking he didn't want to screw up a good thing. Not with his track record.

Chugging the last of the beer, Steve threw the empty bottle to the floor, letting it clatter across the boards somewhere. He didn't care where. Then he picked up the sledgehammer again and continued tearing down that wall as if his life depended on it.

Outside, the thunder prevailed. Ominously. Like the tolling of a bell. Counting down to something. Emphasising his loneliness, his isolation. He could've been at the bar now, with the others, but he'd opted out. Again. Didn't want to risk seeing her with that paramedic.

God, he was a stupid mess. So damn weak. Just like he'd been four years ago with Suzanne. Steve hated that. Hated that feeling. If only he'd been—

His mobile rang.

Steve stopped, pulled it out from his pocket, and saw Tessa's name on the display. With gritted teeth, he cancelled the incoming call. Wasn't in the mood for another of her crazy hunches or whatever it was she was calling him for.

Two minutes later, it rang again. Same procedure. Same result. It kept ringing him four times more before eventually stopping.

Steve continued tearing down the wall, muscles growing tired now, bleeding out the last of his frustrations like he'd hoped. A fifth beer made his head pleasantly buzzed as well, dulling his thoughts, his memories. All in all, dad Hayden's therapy worked once more. Disaster averted. No need to make a fool of himself at the office or some other place. Now he could face her again tomorrow morning, act as if nothing had changed.

Even if it had.

Then, all of a sudden, the door to the third bedroom opened and she was there. Eyes wide, blonde hair tousled, neck covered in a bandage, breath slightly wheezing after coming up the stairs with her bruised ribs.

He was too stunned to get angry. "Tess."

She was too wired to stand still. "You didn't answer your phone. I got worried."

Jittery, Tessa entered the room, stepping over paint tins, stacks of plasterboards, and tools left around. Her arms hugged her upper body tightly, her lips pursed thinly, and Steve recognised the look. She was nervous, tense, as if the bearer of bad news.

"I'm fine," Steve said automatically, eyes narrowing as his shock passed. He picked up the sledgehammer and continued with his task, suddenly needing the action again.

"Are you?" Her voice speared him. There was an underlying challenge there, fuelled by tension and a touch of both frustration and worry.

She'd stopped moving and he could picture her even if he couldn't see her. Ramrod straight, shoulders tense, chin tipped up slightly in defiance, head cocked somewhat to the side. Steve had seen it many times. Had argued with her over it many times. She probably knew exactly what it did to him, wanted to spark some kind of reaction from him, prove her point.

Steve gritted his teeth. "Why are you here, Tess?"

"I'm worried about you." Tessa started moving again, slower this time, almost in sync with the thunder that'd moved past Arthur Street and was farther off now. Her voice sounded abnormally loud in the bare room. "You've been…tense."

Steve snorted. He couldn't help it. That was the biggest understatement he'd heard. To draw attention away from his initial response, he swung the sledgehammer again, hooking it into a piece of broken drywall and ripping it away.

"Just get a little sick of this job sometimes," he muttered, which wasn't a lie. There were too many sickos out there like Kilgrave; too many bodies that haunted him at times.

"Right," Tessa said in a tone that clearly was meant to placate him. She obviously didn't buy it for a second. Steve swung the sledgehammer harder, cracking parts of the wooden frame behind the drywall. "So it's got nothing to do with me?"

Steve almost halted mid-swing. With those damn observant eyes of her, she would've seen it and he cursed himself inwardly. "No."

"Okay…" She'd stopped again, her voice suddenly very close. It was as if he could see her in the periphery of his vision, but Steve didn't turn to look. Couldn't.

Instead, shifting position, Steve focused his eyes on the last remaining wooden frame, pulled the sledgehammer over his shoulder and prepared to let it slam with extra force.

"I'm not seeing him, you know."

Like a punch in his gut. Steve couldn't swing the sledgehammer. Couldn't say or _do_ anything. He just stood there, stupidly, his muscles shaking with the effort of holding it uselessly over his shoulder.

The wall was already torn down.

"It's not him I'm interested in."

Breath caught in his throat, Steve finally looked at her, met her eyes, saw the little expressive details telling him she was exposing herself to him. A clear shine in her eyes, silent tears on her cheeks, arms wrapped tightly to protect herself, lower lip caught between her teeth.

"But you haven't seen that, have you?" Her voice was soft, small, oddly vulnerable and yet oddly strong at the same time. "You saw what you wanted to see."

He had, hadn't he?

"Tess…" The words wouldn't come to him. Slowly, tiredly, he let the sledgehammer down to the floor, but she was already looking away, pulling back, and his gut twisted. "Tess, I—"

"I'm tired too, you know." Tessa began to move towards the door, slowly, giving him a wide berth, her eyes no longer holding his gaze longer than split seconds. "I'm going to head home. Just wanted to make sure you were okay after today."

She gave him a smile, but it wasn't like her usual ones. Not the ones he loved.

"I'm not." The words were pulled from the depths of his being without a conscious thought. Her stunned eyes met his, longer this time, and Steve knew the storm had come. Only it wasn't a raging inferno; it was a slow burn. Nearly dying out already. "I hate to see you get hurt."

Tears shimmered in her eyes. "Only hurt?"

That challenge again. Only now, as Steve considered the words he wanted to say, he realised how stupid they sounded, how childish. He was a thirty-odd male, damn it. He wasn't supposed to be this weak. And yet…she was the wiser one, pushing him to the limit, making him own up to it.

"You smiled at him." Steve's lips pursed into a thin line. "I hated it."

She didn't smile at that. Didn't crack a joke. Didn't make him feel worthless and small. Instead, she let her shoulders relax and her arms to fall to her sides, exposing herself fully. "So what're we going to do about it?"

So brave, so beautiful. The last of Steve's defences crumbled.

"I don't know about tomorrow, but…right now, I want to kiss you."

That warranted a smile. An honest one, a happy one. "Okay."

It spurred him on. Letting go of the sledgehammer, Steve bridged the distance between them slowly, giving her every chance to back out, to say stop, but the damn woman didn't stop him. She just held his gaze all the way, her breath catching slightly in her throat as he stopped in front of her, almost a head taller than her, and she didn't close her eyes until their noses grazed each other.

And then all his focus narrowed to those soft, pliant lips beneath his, and he forgot all about time, place and tomorrow.

After all these years, he was finally home. The thunder had passed.

* * *

 _010\. Years_

The house was quiet and dark when Steve came home. Locking the door behind him, he turned on the light to expose the living room, which had once been a pristine place of relaxation and comfort. Now the floor was strewn with toys and piles of clothes, the kitchen table was still set with used bowls and cups, and Tessa's laptop and folders were spread all over the coffee table.

Sighing, Steve reined in a groan and put away his coat, bag of take-away and laptop bag before beginning to clean up the mess.

It wasn't typically like this. Well, most of the time. And according to his mother, he couldn't really expect anything less with a toddler in the house. There'd be good days and there'd be crazy days. Today was the latter, apparently.

Once done, Steve found his way upstairs to the second bedroom, where the door stood ajar with light and soft snores streaming out. Cracking it open a little more, he couldn't help the tired smile crossing his lips.

Christine's bedroom was an even worse mess than how it'd been downstairs, toys and books everywhere. A night light was on, exposing the small face tucked up against the bars of the cot, and Steve approached the cot carefully to caress the small mop of hair on the two-year-old's head. She didn't stir, simply sleeping on without a care in the world, a completely innocent soul with her whole life ahead of her, unaware of the bad things humanity was capable of.

It's what kept him sane, kept him going even though he'd been close to quit Homicide several times. And even with all the additional stress of being a parent and yucky stuff to get used to, Steve felt more energised these days than he'd had four years ago. As if he'd tapped into some previously unknown source of energy that kept refilling itself with each childish laughter, each smile and each milestone reached.

He needed that. Had thought he'd never have it, and now couldn't get enough of it. Shit might still happen, but at least he'd have _this_ to get back home to.

Smiling, Steve planted a kiss on top of Christine's head, then retraced his steps back to the hallway and continued to the master bedroom, where he suspected he'd find Tessa. He was right, which was become a typical thing these days. Who'd have thought?

Tessa was spread out on top of the bed, fully dressed, snoring softly. Still so beautiful in her sleep, even when clearly exhausted. Steve enjoyed the sight, though; enjoyed watching her stay in one place for more than five minutes. Although she'd slowed down somewhat after having Christine, had started taking extra precautions and get enough sleep, he still believed she could be too wired sometimes, too carried away by a case.

But telling her so was a sure way to a fight and Steve didn't want that. They'd fought too much over that issue already. Besides, he couldn't always let go of a case either, so they were two peas in a pod.

At least they'd both agreed that Christine, their family, came first.

Steve glanced at his watch before sitting down on the edge of the bed, reaching out to gently wake her. "Tess. You okay?"

"Mm…" She didn't stir at once, coming rather groggily out of her sleep. It took a few blinks of her eyes before she could focus on him. When she did, she smiled briefly. "What time is it?"

"Almost nine. Did you eat?" Steve took her hand between his, running his thumb across her knuckles and her wedding ring, and smirked. "Brought noodles. Your favourite."

Tessa smiled tiredly, rubbing her eyes. "Sounds great. I didn't get to eat much. Chrissy was throwing stuff all over the place."

"I noticed," Steve said dryly, thinking of the stains he'd cleaned off the kitchen table, chairs, floors and walls. Maybe there was a future renovator in her; he wondered what she'd do if he gave her some paint. "You 'right? Any nausea tonight?"

"No, I think it's passed now." Tessa let him help her up to the edge of the bed, then sat for a moment gathering her sense of balance before standing up. "Ough. I feel like I could sleep for a week, though."

"That's something I thought I'd never hear," Steve teased, moving over to his side of the bed to take off his suit and change into something more comfortable. He caught her rolling her eyes and chuckled. "So how'd it go with Benson today?"

"Fine enough, I guess," Tessa said as she stretched her arms and back like a cat, pulling back enough to showcase the round bump growing beneath her woollen jumper. There was a touch of frustration in her voice. "I'll be off at four every day from now on. Benny and Chris will do a lot of the legwork, unless it's stuff deemed 'safe enough' for me to handle."

Steve met her eyes at that inflection. He knew she hated being treated like this, but that's what Inspector Benson's policy was like. If you wanted to remain in Homicide, you had to follow her rules. It was a whole new world of procedure and policies for the both of them, and the first time Steve had seen first-hand how some officers were met by their superiors when pregnant. Hadn't been easy to deal with it himself, either, even though he was the supervising Sergeant now. If Benson was critical to pregnant officers, she was certainly critical to a husband standing up for his wife.

"You got through it last time," Steve said gently, pulling on a pair of jeans and a jumper. "Besides, at least one of us gets to spend some extra time with Christine this way."

"I know."

Tessa blew a breath, clearly still conflicted about it all. Steve understood now, even if he hadn't before when Christine was old enough for Tessa to come back to work. She loved Christine to pieces, but still cared about her work, about the challenge. Sometimes, that meant not being able to let it go once you were off the clock, as evidenced by the work stuff she'd left lying around downstairs.

Then again, being the Sergeant meant he could delegate tasks now and be off at four as well, unless something came up. He didn't always show it, but he loved the freedom it gave him. His family was on top of the list of priorities; if he could, he'd be at home with Christine all day.

"Hey, cheer up." Taking Tessa in his arms, Steve hugged her tightly and then leaned back enough to gaze into her eyes, smirking teasingly. "The noodles are waiting, Your Majesty. Can't have you running on empty."

Tessa grinned too, that honest, beautiful smile he loved so much and never tired of seeing. "Why, thank you, my white knight. Junior will be pleased."

"Only the best for the mother of my children." Steve's smile widened and he stole a kiss, nuzzling her nose afterwards. "Come on. I'm starving and we've got that last ep of _The Wire_ to watch."

"Oh, the one where McNulty dies?" Tessa cocked an eyebrow innocently, to which Steve grimaced and poked her in her side, tickling her.

"No spoilers, please."

Tessa just laughed, a sound so wondrous Steve felt his smile widen involuntarily. And as they found their way down the darkened hallway and staircase to the living room, he couldn't help think he was a damn lucky man.

 **FIN**


End file.
